“Your parents invited me to dinner again tomorrow night. What do you think you’ll make?”
I’m sorry, what?
“I have to work tomorrow, so I’m sure Mama will be the one cooking.”
“Maybe your boss will let you go home early.”
So I can cook you stupid dinner?!
“Well, considering it’ll only be my second day, I wouldn’t feel comfortable asking.”
His mouth turned down, and I swear if he hadn’t been driving, he would have stomped his foot and crossed his arms like a petulant child.
“Surely your boss has to know your priorities are still at home. If she doesn’t, then you need to reconsider working there.”
Is he for real?
He had a lot of nerve butting into my business like that.
I wanted to point out that cooking dinner—especially when my mother was normally the one to cook—wasn’t a real priority for me or my family.
Still, because I was a good girl, and Mr. Roberts was an elder, I murmured, “I’m sure Mama wants to cook.”
“I’ll talk to your dad about rescheduling for when you’re off work.”
What?! Why?!
Of course I didn’t say that, just dutifully replied, “I’m off on Saturday.”
“And Sunday, too, I assume.”
The Bradbury’s had never really observed that Commandment since the mine didn’t care about keeping the Sabbath holy, and as Papa liked to say, “Jesus understood”.
And because the church liked the money Papa’s job afforded him for tithing, the elders somehow managed to overlook that sin.
My experience with Jon and the school had opened my eyes to a lot of things they were willing to overlook if it suited them.
“I’m not sure,” I answered honestly. “I don’t think Lainey has made next week’s schedule yet.”
“You need to tell her you’re not allowed to work on Sundays.”
Says who?
Why did Mr. Roberts think he was entitled to an opinion on my work schedule, or what I was “allowed” to do? I got that the elders thought my and Ruthie’s souls were in jeopardy, but this was too much—even for them.
We pulled into my drive, and I unfastened my seatbelt. The second he put the car in park, I opened my door and hopped out, closing it as gently as I could so not to wake Ruthie.
As I undid the baby’s car seat, I told him again, “Thank you again for picking us up. I’m able to get a ride the rest of the week.”
“With who?”
None of your business!
“One of the girls who works at the bakery. She wasn’t working today, that’s why I needed a ride.”
It almost scared me how easily that lie flowed off my tongue. But I didn’t owe him an explanation, so I didn’t feel bad about it as I headed inside.
****
